


Daddy Issues.

by tveektveak



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Bad Parenting, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Daddy Issues, Fundy has a lot of those, Gen, M/M, Power Imbalance, like two paragraphs with fundy/schlatt and it's NOT healthy but there is consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27885970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveektveak/pseuds/tveektveak
Summary: Fundy grows up, and it doesn't go well.
Relationships: Except for one very short scene that has, Floris | Fundy/Jschlatt, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 164





	Daddy Issues.

**Author's Note:**

> My first time writing Dream SMP! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed, it would mean a lot to me.  
> Anyway, enjoy!! :)

Fundy learned to walk on his own.

He remembers the moment, his legs shaking and his paws, still so small, reaching for something to hold onto. Behind him, his tail moved erratically, back and forth, like it would help him keep his balance.

His dad wasn't there to see it. Fundy understood. His dad was a grown-up, with important grown-up business. War, war to protect their home, to protect Fundy. He did it all for Fundy. That's why he had to learn how to walk. He had to grow up fast, and become big and dependable and a leader like his dad was.

He took another step forward, and he fell down, scraping his knee on the dirt and rocks. He hissed and pulled his legs close to his chest, and he examined the red dripping from his knee. His dad wasn't there to bandage it.

━━━━

The war ended.

As the President, his dad had a lot of responsibilities in L'Manburg. He had to attend meetings, sign documents, create plans for the city and manage international relations, and he did it all on his own. He was admired for it, and he made L'Manburg thrive, but it meant he was often busy.

Fundy waited weeks for the right moment. It was a quiet noon in spring, and the newly warm weather had everyone feeling lazy and amiable. His dad was in his office, writing on a piece of paper, but he didn't seem focused, humming a tune under his breath. Fundy walked in with his tail behind his legs and his heart beating wildly in his chest.

"Dad," he began, and he hated the shake in his voice. "Dad, can I talk to you?"

Wilbur looked up from his desk with a raised eyebrow. Fundy didn't visit him in the office often. "Fundy! What's going on?" he asked.  
Fundy stepped closer, stumbling in his boots. He'd only started wearing shoes recently. He didn't need them, not really, but everyone else wore them.

He cleared his throat and stared at Wilbur, his paws clasped tightly behind his back, where his dad wouldn't see them. "Dad, I'm a boy," he said. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. "I want you to call me son from now on."

He'd practiced this so many times, whispering back and forth to himself at night, alone in his bedroom where no one could hear him. He'd created plans for all scenarios, every response his dad could have, and he'd worked so hard, but he was messing it up, the words weren't coming out right, he-

"Fundy," Wilbur said. He pushed his chair back, and the angry screech of it terrified Fundy, made his ears flatten on his head. His dad walked closer to him and crouched, hands outstretched towards Fundy's arms. Then further down, behind him, back to his treacherous shaking paws, that betrayed his fear to the world. Wilbur pulled them forward and held them gently. "Thank you for telling me," he said. Then, his expression broke into a toothy smile. "I have a son! You're my son, Fundy!"

Fundy smiled and nodded his head emphatically. "Yeah!"

Wilbur pinched Fundy's cheeks and cooed: "Who's my cute little fox buddy? You are! You are!"

"Oh my god, dad!" Fundy growled, and tried pushing him away. He bit his lip to stop his bubbling laughter, and he pretended to hate it (he loved it) until his dad backed off. Wilbur raised his hands in the air and rolled his eyes, a smile still on his face "Only ten and already in your rebellious phase. What will I do with you?"

This time Fundy did laugh.

They talked for a bit, about normal things, like dinner and when grandpa Phil would visit again. Even when the sun set, and his dad started grumbling about permits and deadlines, Fundy didn't leave his side. He fell asleep curled up on the floor by the desk, and he barely stirred as he was carried home and put in bed.

The kiss on his forehead felt too real to be a dream.  


━━━━  
Fundy hadn't been worried about the election.

He was sure his dad would win.

He was his dad, after all. He had everything under control. He was mature, and strong, and dependable.

He lost.

Fundy knew it before he heard it. He could see the weariness in his dad's eyes, the defeated tone of his voice. Next to him, Tommy was cheering and jumping in the air excitedly, because he thought they'd won. They should have won.

Wilbur placed a hand on Tommy's shoulder, a motion so fatherly it made something in Fundy twist. "Settle down, Tommy," he said. Wilbur stared his opponents down, confident but for the way his fists tightened, fingers digging into his palms."The coalition party of SCHLATT 2020 and SWAG 2020 surpassed POG 2020 in votes by 1%. Schlatt and Quackity have won the election."

Fundy stopped listening.

The crowd erupted in cheers and shouts, people raising their hands in the air and pushing and screaming. In between the chaos, Wilbur stood quiet, his head held high. His gaze was set on Schlatt, cold and emotionless. The new president-elect had a smug grin on his face. Fundy watched him shake hands and adjust his tie, and then take his place upon the podium.

He looked for his father and found him in the front, sat next to Tommy. The younger man was complaining and grumbling under his breath, but everyone else was quiet, waiting for Schlatt's speech. Fundy joined them swiftly, sitting by his dad. All the words he wanted to speak were stuck in his throat.

Schlatt tapped the microphone. "Well," he began. "That was easy."

Laughter again, from all sides but next to him, where the former president and his right-hand man could do nothing but watch. Fundy looked at Schlatt, at his pressed suit and white teeth and the dangerous glint in his eyes, and he decided he hated him.

"My first decree as the president," Schlatt paused. "No, as the emperor of L'Manburg!" Another pause. A dramatic one, like this was a play, like it was a game to him. "Is to revoke the citizenship of Wilbur Soot-"

Fundy held his breath.

"-and TommyInnit!"

He screamed. Someone else yelled with him, but most people cheered. Two men approached his father from both sides. Fundy reached for his arm. "Dad-"

Wilbur was already on his feet. "Tommy, run!' he shouted. He pushed through the crowd, dodging the arrows that were shot at him. Tommy was already gone, disappearing into the trees. On the podium, Schlatt was barking orders, saying to catch them, to shoot them, to kill them. Fundy's dad ran into the woods and out of sight in front of his eyes, and all he could do was stand there, defenseless and shaking, and wonder what the hell he was supposed to do without him.

He got back up, dusting the dirt off his trousers. His hands were numb, like they weren't his own. He turned around and looked at Schlatt, and their eyes met. His goat pupils, horizontal with a slit in the middle, flickered in recognition. He smiled.

''Wilbur's runt, huh? This should be fun."  
━━━━ 

The flag went up in flames. Fundy had been the one to light the spark.

He went home and clawed at his skin till he bled.

━━━━

Working under Schlatt was a lot of responsibility. Even though Quackity and Tubbo were higher ranked than him, Fundy often took on a lot more responsibility than them. It was alright - he didn't mind being busy. It kept his mind off things.

He was known to be strict and serious, all business. He stuck to the rules. He didn't visit Wilbur, not like he suspected Tubbo was doing. It was his only way to gain their trust. Being Wilbur's son was a disadvantage, but one that he'd overcome. Schlatt and Quackity trusted him, at least enough to let him handle important work.

He was doing okay.

(He hated how Niki and Tubbo looked at him. Like a monster.)

He missed his father, but he did what he had to survive.

(What had they told Wilbur about him? What did his dad think of him?)

He carried his journal with him. No one thought it weird, he did a lot of paperwork these days, but his journal was different. ''Diary Of A Spy'', he'd called it. He wrote down his observations and his thoughts, and sometimes his feelings. He didn't share it with anyone. Nevertheless, he wrote in it every day, filling in more and more pages.

He wasn't sure when he'd show Wilbur.

He kept writing.

At some point, he realized he wasn't writing for his father. He wrote to prove to himself that he still cared.

That he wasn't happier than he'd ever been.

The entries got scarcer. He didn't feel like writing. It was too risky, and Schlatt would catch him. He put the journal under his mattress and left it there to collect dust, trying to forget it ever existed.

━━━━

When Quackity left Manberg, Fundy took the chance to climb up the political ladder. It didn't happen the way he'd planned.

"Mr. President," he said. They stood where the White House had once been, now empty land. He'd taken it down himself. "I was thinking. Now that Quackity is gone, we don't have a vice president anymore. Obviously, I trust you to make the correct decision, but I really think-"

"Yeah, yeah, stop the cock-sucking, Fundy, alright?" Schlatt said, waving his hand dismissively. "You can be the Vice President. It's not like Quackity ever did any fucking work."

Fundy grinned, his heart fluttering in his chest. "Thank you, sir, I won't let you down."

Schlatt looked him up and down. He was taller than Fundy and sturdier as well, with broad shoulders accentuated by his business suit. The antitheses in him were overwhelming. He looked professional, and he could be a strong leader. But underneath the businessman exterior, he was unstable, and irresponsible, and though he had the horns of a ram he sported the grin of a predator. With Schlatt's eyes on him, Fundy forgot who was the fox and who the ram; he felt like prey, vulnerable and at Schlatt's mercy.

He was frightening when he was angry. But Fundy feared his grin the most, the same grin he used when he banished his father, when he mocked Quackity after he drove him away, and now as he stared Fundy down like he was his next meal. "You know what I like about you, Fundy?" he asked.

Fundy shook his head. Schlatt's grin widened. "You're such a huge bitch."

"Wha-"

"No, no, let me finish," Schlatt said. He put his hands in his pockets, relaxed and confident. "You're a bitch Fundy, and that's that. You're just so desperate to get the approval of anyone who you think is better than you, and you don't even give a shit about anything else. You don't need morals as long as daddy likes you, right? And when daddy wasn't in power anymore, you sucked up to me! Who fucking does that?"

Fundy looked away. He held his tail tightly against his chest. "It's not like that, Schlatt."

Schlatt stepped closer, and Fundy felt his body tense up. "But it is! And it's so fucking funny. You'd do anything if a dickhead in a suit with a fancy title told you to." Another step closer. "Am I wrong?"

Fundy's eyes shot up, glaring holes into Schlatt. He bared his teeth, and his fur fluffed up in anger. "What do you want?"

The ram wasn't threatened. He laughed, like Fundy's attempt at being intimidating was a big joke. "I don't want anything," he said. He put his hand on Fundy's shoulder, and the fox froze up. "But I'll tell you what you want, Daddy Issues. You want to be someone's bitch, yeah? You want a big strong man to tell you that you're worth something."

Fundy thought about punching him. He didn't.

"Hey, there's no pressure," Schlatt said. "Just say the word and I'll back off, VP."

Fundy wanted to tear him into pieces.

Instead, he gripped Schlatt's tie and pulled him in. Their mouths clashed, more teeth than tongue, and he bit down, his fangs slicing Schlatt's lip. Blood flooded their mouths. Schlatt grabbed his hips, hard, trying to form bruises. He pulled away and laughed, loud and deranged. His teeth were stained in blood. "You crazy motherfucker," he just said.

Fundy pulled him back in.  
━━━━ 

He followed Tubbo down the tunnels, prancing with light footsteps so he wouldn't betray his presence. The underground passage to Pogtopia wasn't news to him. He and Schlatt had investigated it together a long time ago, before he was promoted to Vice President. It was just as dark and humid as he remembered it, messily dug out and with little light. Fundy clutched his journal close to his chest, and watched Tubbo as he turned left through a secret passage. He followed him, silent and watching his feet.

A gush of wind blew through the small tunnel, and it made him shiver despite his thick fur. Wind meant the outside. They were close.

He lost sight of Tubbo when he turned again, the echo of his steps quieting down. An orange glow lit up the tunnel, where Tubbo had disappeared. Fundy approached it, slow and hesitant. The wind blew again but he didn't stop. He could smell food, and fire, and people, their different scents mingling together.

He could guess who they were. That made him scared to step out of the tunnel - not because he was afraid of being attacked, but he was afraid of what would happen when he wasn't. When he saw him.

Voices came from somewhere above him, triumphant and loud.

Fundy sneaked out of the tunnel to investigate. It opened into a large cave, dimly lit with torches. It was huge, with makeshift rooms and trails that led deeper into the mountain, chests, weapons and armor laying around. The walls were the most shocking - buttons covered them from the bottom to the ceiling, as far as the eye could see.

He walked up the messy path carved on the stone wall, towards the direction of the voices. They had quietened down but the excitement was still present, the hope. Fundy looked up, trying to make out his enemies' from the shadows that danced on the wall.  
After this point, the path got rougher. It had to be a newer area of Pogtopia, the ground still rugged and covered in dirt. He tried to get closer, but his dress shoes, a gift from Schlatt to match his suit, betrayed him. He kicked the pebbles under his feet, and they fell down the chasm, too loud for something so small. Immediately, someone whispered a warning and the voices went silent.

"Who's there?"

He froze. There was no time to hide.

"Come out, bitch! I've got a gun!"

"Tommy, settle down," someone said, and Fundy's response died in his throat.

Wilbur came out from the turn of the path, holding a lantern and followed by Tommy, Tubbo, Quackity, Technoblade, Niki and some of the SMP's neutral members. They all stared at him in confused silence.

Fundy couldn't look at them. At him.

Tubbo was the first to talk. "Fundy? What are you doing here?"

He glanced at him, at his wide eyes and raised eyebrows. He and Tubbo had been working together under Schlatt for a long time. They were the traitors, only not really, because Fundy had known from the beginning that Tubbo wasn't on Schlatt's side. He understood his surprise, though. Fundy had been loyal to the new government since day one. Fundy had burnt down the flag. Fundy had refused to talk of Tommy, or Wilbur. Tubbo probably hated him. Did he think he was here to stop them?

He raised his free hand in the air, the one not holding the journal. "Uh, don't shoot. I'm not here for Schlatt. I'm- I'm done with Schlatt."

Tommy scoffed. "Surely you don't believe him, Wilbur. This guy stabbed us all in the back!"

Technoblade pulled his sword out of its sheath. Fundy took a step back, and more pebbles fell off the path. He could be next.

"Techno, wait," Wilbur said. He put his hand on Techno's shoulder. "Guns down, for now."

He couldn't take it anymore. "I have this," he said, and he held out his journal. "It's - It's a spy journal. I've been spying on Schlatt since the beginning, I've written down all his habits, his weakness, things you could take advantage of." He paused and took a breath, shaky. "Just read it, let me prove it to you."

Footsteps.

The journal was taken from his hands, and he heard the shuffling of paper.

"What does it say?" Quackity asked.

Wilbur didn't reply. He flipped through the pages, skimming its contents. He let out a heavy sigh and closed it with a thud. "Fundy," he said. "Look at me."

He tried to make his expression neutral, his mouth in a tight line. Behind him, his tail was low to the ground. His ears turned backwards against his skull. The others didn't know, but Wilbur would be able to tell his courage was an act. He looked up.

Wilbur had changed in subtle ways. His hair was messy, his clothes were ratty and old, and his eyes were tired, a glint in them that Fundy didn't want to interpret. His face and hands were coated in dirt from living underground for so long. And despite what he'd promised himself, Fundy felt himself break down.

He took in a sharp inhale. "Wilbur," he said, the 'father' at the tip of his tongue, its absence painfully obvious.

Even Tommy was quiet, watching the exchange. Wilbur handed Fundy the journal and laughed, the sound of it bouncing on the stone walls. "Who cares! Who cares if he betrayed us, none of it matters now. We have more important plans to make. The war is in ten days."

(''Sorry Fundy, Daddy can't play now. Go play with Tubbo and Tommy, okay?")

"But Wilbur-"

"It's fine! He's not the traitor, Dream said the traitor would surprise us, and, well," Wilbur looked at Fundy, and just laughed again. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.

"What about the journal?" he asked. His voice sounded small even to himself.

Wilbur kept moving. "Sign it and put it in a chest. There's no time to waste."

("Do you like my drawing, dad?"

"Huh? Oh, yes Fundy, very good."

"You didn't even look at it!")

Everyone followed Wilbur down the path, Tommy and Quackity last, distrust clear in the way they stared him down. Fundy waited for them to turn around, and he grabbed the journal, tearing out the pages one by one. His hands were shaking. He crumpled them up and threw everything in the river below, watched as it disappeared under the dark water.

He rushed to catch up to the others.

━━━━

"You ruined everything we had!" he screamed. His throat was raw. His whole body ached, because the battle had been short but it hadn't been easy. Schlatt was on his knees in front of him, in his final moments, and he didn't even care.

"You ruined everything we had," he repeated. He didn't give a shit what the others thought of his outburst. No one believed he was loyal. No one actually cared.

Schlatt got up, shaky on his legs. He looked at him, and he flashed him his smug grin one last time. Fundy hated it as much as the first. "What a fucking hero you are," he said. "A bitch till the very end."

He punched Fundy's chest. He had armor on, but even without it, the other man was too weak to do any damage. "It's over, Schlatt," he said.

His president had a heart attack, right in front of them, and Fundy hated himself for just feeling numb.

━━━━

Wilbur was the traitor. And Wilbur was gone.

So was Manburg. So was Schlatt.

Fundy was left alone, without a nation, without a president, without a father.

━━━━

The ghost was a surprise.

It followed him around sometimes, talking to him in the baby voice Wilbur used all those years ago. It wrote hello signs and gave him little presents, flowers and snacks and too much blue dye. It called him ''son''.

It made its home in the sewers running under New L'Manberg, too close to Fundy's home for comfort. He tried to ignore it, but it wasn't always easy.

"Hello, son," the ghost said. It smiled, and held out a book and quill towards him. "Could you write me a story, please? For my library."

Fundy took it, hesitant. "Uh. Alright." He opened it and stared down at the blank pages. His mind was spinning with ideas, but nothing felt right. Doing this didn't feel right.

Ghostbur must have noticed his hesitation. "Don't be shy, Fundy! You're an excellent author. I've read your other book, you know."

Fundy dipped the quill in ink. "Huh? What book?"

" 'Diary Of A Spy', I believe it was. Very good story-telling, I really got into the character," it said.

Fundy glared at it. "Diary Of a Spy isn't a story! It-It was what happened to me! What happened to me because you left me!"

Ghostbur tilted its head in confusion, its normal happy smile changing into something meeker. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, son-"

"Don't fucking call me that! Don't, just- Don't. You lost the right to call me son when you left me in L'Manburg and never came back for me. When you didn't give a shit when I came back."

Ghostbur reached into its inventory and pulled out more blue dye. It held it in its palm. "I don't remember everything that happened, but that doesn't sound like me, Fundy. I love you, you're my little boy!"

"You love me?! Dad, you-"

He stopped. Took a breath. He breathed it out, slow and deep. ''You know what? I'm not doing this."

He gave Ghostbur the book and quill, grimacing at the black ink stains on his paws. They would take forever to wash off. "I'm not in the mood for writing." He paused, looking at the ghost. There was a sadness in its eyes, in the broken way it spoke. Despite who it was, and despite his better judgment, Fundy couldn't hate it. "Maybe next time."

━━━━

Fundy hadn't expected the proposal, but he wasn't against it.

Eret was kind, responsible and mature. How a parent should be. He was excited to have them, to have a family, and a home, and not have to trespass on his grandfather's house. He could finally catch a break, and let someone else take care of him for a change. He was happy.

He hadn't told Ghostbur. It would find out on its own.


End file.
